


Crossroads

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Christmas, Drama, Faustian Bargain, Gen, Musical Instruments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-24
Updated: 2007-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A desperate House attempts a sale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this small story was drawn from two sources: a recent post by [](http://maddoggirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**maddoggirl**](http://maddoggirl.livejournal.com/), in which she mentioned the blues legend Blind Willie McTell and quoted various lyrics, and the wonderful "House talks to God" fics [Rematch](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/15933.html) and [Nothing](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/20773.html), by [](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/profile)[**daisylily**](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/).

_**Crossroads**_  
 **TITLE:** Crossroads  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/)  
 **PAIRING:** House, Satan  
 **RATING:** PG-13  
 **WARNINGS:** None.  
 **SPOILERS:** None.  
 **SUMMARY:** A desperate House attempts a sale.  
 **DISCLAIMER:** Don't own 'em. Never will.  
 **AUTHOR NOTES:** The inspiration for this small story was drawn from two sources: a recent post by [](http://maddoggirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**maddoggirl**](http://maddoggirl.livejournal.com/) , in which she mentioned the blues legend Blind Willie McTell and quoted various lyrics, and the wonderful "House talks to God" fics [Rematch](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/15933.html) and [Nothing](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/20773.html), by [](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/profile)[**daisylily**](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/).  
 **BETA: Silverjackal** , who said "Now this is different!"

 **Crossroads**

  
"Who do you think you are?" the Devil asked. "Robert Johnson, come to the crossroads to sell his soul?"

"Did he actually do that?" House replied, his curiosity piqued. The Devil's face was mostly hidden, but even so his features seemed to shift and re-form constantly in the play of light and shadow.

"Would I have said it if he hadn't?"

"You _are_ the Father of Lies, according to some sources."

"Consider the source," the Devil said, "and you'll find me in the details." He waggled a black-gloved forefinger at House. "You've come all the way out here at midnight, to this dirt crossroads in the middle of nowhere -- you tell me what you're here for."

"I want to save my friend," House said softly. "And I'll sell you my soul to do it."

The Devil laughed. It was a bell-like sound, that of hunting hounds on a blood-spoor trail, the peal of a carillon hymn in the morning. His horse danced sideways in a crooked step, and blew out a soft _whuff!_

"You?" the Devil chortled. "You mean to say ... you _have_ one?"

"He seems to think so." House gritted his teeth. His leg was beginning to throb and the long ride out from Princeton had given him a headache. It was terribly cold, the frigid air creeping into his bones. At this, the very edge of Mercer County, even the constellations looked unfamiliar as they crept in their diamond-bright circles overhead.

"He's proved to be gullible before. Or perhaps he's tricked you. He's done that, too."

"He's _dying,_ " House ground out. "He's not in a position to be tricking me or anybody else."

"So you say." The Devil flicked a bit of ash from the cigarette that had suddenly appeared in his hand. The tip glowed red as a freshly-poked coal, and House caught the scent of prime Virginia tobacco. "So you are sincere in your offer. Why now?"

"I told you. Because he's dying."

The Devil shook his head, the watered black silk of his top hat catching the moonlight. "People are dying all the time, every day," he said. "Why is this one any different?" He reached down, and patted his black steed gently on the side of its long neck. "Would you make this offer for your mother? Your father?" The Devil's lips curved up, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his great good humor. "I certainly don't believe you'd do this for your father."

"It's not your concern why!" House shouted. Clouds were scudding across the sky now, thick clouds that promised snow before the dawn. He turned, and lifted his Gibson Flying V from its case, strapped to the back of the bike. "Here, and now," he cried. "Freely given. Take it." He held out the guitar, bracing against a sudden gust of wind. " _Take it!_ "

The Devil smiled at him then, and House felt his heart crack within his chest.

"Have you forgotten?" the Devil said gently. "Have you forgotten what night it is?" He gathered up his reins, turned his horse's head to the west. "It is Christmas Eve, Dr. House. No one strikes bargains with me on this night." He looked back then, a quick glance.

"I do, however, give a gift, and one gift only." An eyebrow quirked upwards. "After all, I _was_ an angel once, myself."

And in a flash of light that seemed to linger long after the rider was gone, House was alone once again. He looked up at the sky.

A light snow had begun to fall.

  
~ the end.

 ** _NOTES:_**  
More information on the story of Robert Johnson and his encounter at the crossroads may be found [here](http://www.mudcat.org/rj-dave.cfm) and [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Johnson_\(musician\)).


End file.
